Red Fear
by The Harmonizer
Summary: Your favorite CBI team finds its most popular member once again at the merciless hands of its most notorious killer: Red John. But this time, let's just say, things dont go quite as smoothly. Rated T for torture and minor language.
1. Chapter 1

A/N: Woo my second fanfic is complete! And hopefully good ;D (Oh and I will be submitting chapters in batches over the next week or two, so if you want the next one, let me know!)

Disclaimer: The usual "I unfortunately don't own The Mentalist or any of its characters" mumbo jumbo.

Rated M for violence and minor language later.

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**Ch. 1**

"Jane, can you stop it?" Lisbon stared at a file on her desk intently, trying to ignore Patrick Jane's incessant talking. She was tired. It had been a long day - a killer on the loose, no leads, countless dead-ends, and to top it all off, she now had Jane badgering her about her being stressed and needing to relax.

His smile spread as he leaned closer over her shoulder, his warm, minty breath lightly blowing her hair. "Come on, Lisbon," he urged. Lisbon's grip on her paper tightened. "Just five minutes. Five little minutes. It won't take any time at all and it won't hurt. I promise." His grin got progressively wider as he became more amused.

Lisbon threw her arms up in the air, sending the paper she was holding flying. "For the last time, Jane, I'm not letting you hypnotize me! Go find some other guinea pig to de-stress!" She held her face in her hands and slumped low over her desk, letting out an aggravated huff of air.

"It's not hypnotism actually. Just something that can help calm you down." Jane persisted, but Lisbon dropped her arms rather forcefully onto the desk and turned her head to glare at him. "Fine! Fine." Jane relented, stepping backwards with his hands up in surrender. Lisbon bent to pick up the paper, set it on the desk, adjusted herself, and resumed her study.

"At least let me make you a cup of tea. It always works for me."

"Jane." She groaned, exasperated.

"Leaving," he quipped, plopping himself down on the sofa. Only a couple seconds of silence passed. "Tea…me...tea…me," Jane chuckled. "I'm a poet and I don't know it, Lisbon."

He managed to dodge the stapler just in time.

* * *

About an hour later, the rest of the team returned to the CBI office from investigating a victim's home and interviewing possible suspects. Although they did arrive with some helpful information, it wasn't enough to put anyone behind bars. They didn't have all the pieces.

"What do you think Jane?" Lisbon asked, glancing over to the sofa where Jane still lay. He had dozed off, one arm over his face, the other hanging off the side of the sofa and gently brushing the floor. "Jane!"

"Hmmm," he responded, lifting the hand on his face and craning his head slightly to look at whoever had just woken him up. "Did you just say something Lisbon?"

Lisbon rolled her eyes. "Do you mind waking up for a minute? We are in the middle of a case and we have nothing to go on other than an angry ex-girlfriend who was half-way across the state when the victim was killed. Your input would be nice."

Jane swung his legs off the couch and stood sleepily, yawning greatly and reaching his arms to the ceiling.

"Right, the case. Sorry. What were you saying?" His question drifted away as the lights suddenly flickered off and the building was shrouded in complete blackness. Jane couldn't even see Lisbon who was only moments ago clearly visible in front of him. There was a collective gasp that pierced through the darkness.

"What the hell?" Rigsby muttered from somewhere to the right of Jane.

"Stay calm everyone," Lisbon's calm, reassuring voice called out in an attempt to ease the panic that had ensued within the building. "I'm sure the problem will be fixed as soon as possible. Just stay where you are."

Suddenly, a florescent light along the wall opposite Jane and the team flickered on and cast a pale, wavering light on a picture that had been freshly painted there.

Jane felt a tremor rock through his entire body, his mind raced, and his hands shook. There was no doubt about what was painted on the wall. Everyone knew what it was, what it meant, what it foreshadowed. Patrick's legs gave out from under him and he fell back onto the sofa. His breath caught in his throat and he found it difficult to swallow.

The light had brought slightly enough light for the figures of Lisbon, Cho, Rigsby, and Van Pelt to become faintly visible, however Jane's eyes were blind past the sinister image that burned into his eyes.

"L- Lisbon," Jane croaked, pointing to the terrifying portrait. "He's here- _in _the building. We have to get out."

She turned towards him, her face frozen in disbelief, and held up a hesitant hand. "Stay here. Don't move… Jane?"

Jane was looking at her, but not seeing her, hearing her but not listening. Lisbon thought he looked like he was in a trance.

"Jane, promise me you won't move."

Finally, he registered what she was saying and nodded slowly. Convinced that he wasn't going to do anything stupid, she faced her other coworkers, said a few words, and watched as they scurried off to investigate the disturbance and namely, find Red John.

The blood-red face dripped slowly and ominously towards the ground, every inch the drops slid a warning that something awful was inevitable.

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Jane sat on his sofa, knees pulled up to his chest, his eyes never wandering away from the familiar bloody omen. Images of his wife and daughter swept through his mind. His wife's beautiful eyes. His daughter's innocent smile. Those red eyes. That dark bloody smile. No. That was wrong. The room swam around him, a blur of chaos that seemed far away. Lisbon had left his side moments ago. He didn't want her to leave. He was afraid for her.

"Mr. Jane," a voice crackled from an intercom in the ceiling, only faintly audible through a haze of static that was also being emitted. Jane didn't hear it at first. He stared on. His name was repeated again by the haunting voice, slightly louder. This time he heard, along with everyone else who was still in the room. Everyone froze and gaped at the speaker, and then their heads slowly turned to look at Jane. The hair on the back of his neck and arms stood on end. The voice- it had to be Red John. And he was talking to Jane.

Lisbon heard the voice from another room. _Jesus_, she thought.

"Patrick Jane," the speaker voiced once again. With a surge of energy that was not his own, Jane raised himself shakily to his feet.

With impeccable timing, Lisbon flew into the room. "Jane, don't listen to anything he says," she commanded as she strode towards him through the mass of people standing in disbelief. "He's broadcasting himself throughout the entire building. He's probably trying to lure you out. We're searching everywhere but we haven't found him yet."

At that moment the glow illuminating the crimson face flickered out, once again enveloping the room in darkness. Lisbon took charge. "Hold still, be on alert." She drew her weapon, hesitantly holding it at her side in realization that if she fired a shot, she risked hitting an employee... or Jane.

Jane heard a shuffle of noise behind him, a muted footstep, a rustle of paper…a gust of air. He started to turn towards the sound, but before he could do so, a shadow shot up out of the dark, collided with his jaw, and sent him spiraling towards the ground and crashing into its solid, unforgiving surface.

"Jane?" Lisbon was alerted to some movement near her and a sound that resembled a grunt of pain. She groped the air where Jane had been previously standing. Nothing. Still conscious, Jane groggily tried to lift himself up. His jaw throbbed and he tasted blood.

"Lisbon," he coughed.

"Jane! Where are you?" came Lisbon's frantic reply. She continued to feel around in the dark, but it was useless.

Another shadow whipped through the air and came down on Jane, this time grasping him around the ankles and dragging him roughly across the floor.

"Lisbon! Lisbon, help!" he screamed in fright. He reached out desperately to grab onto something, but his fingers groped helplessly at thin air. They brushed against familiar leather, but his couch couldn't save him now. "Lisbon!" came one last terrifying scream. And then everything was silent.

"Jane!" she dropped to her hands and knees, reaching as far as she could and traveling as quickly as she could to find her coworker and friend. She screamed his name over and over again until her eyes welled up with blossoming tears. But she couldn't see a thing.

As if signaling the conclusion to the horrific transaction, all of the lights flicked back on and shed a harsh, florescent glare on the room. Once Lisbon's eyes adjusted, she franticly swiveled around in search for Jane, but the only sign of him was a small puddle of blood about a yard from her feet.

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TBC


	2. Chapter 2

A/N: Thanks to whomever reviewed my previous chapter. I really appreciate it! Please keep reviewing or I may not post the next chapter! ;)

Hope you like it.

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**Ch. 2**

It had only been a couple of minutes since the time Jane was taken until the time he was found. A lot could happen in two minutes.

The interrogation room. That's where they said he was. So that's where they went. The team raced over to where Jane had been spotted, crowds of people parting like the sea to avoid being plowed over by the four agents in their headlong sprint. With hearts racing and breath heaving, they flung themselves through the door of the interrogation room's neighboring observation room.

It was a small white room, with a dusty counter laden with recording instruments and some scattered chairs facing a wall of glass that formed the two-way mirror. The door to the interrogation room stood next to the transparent wall. What Lisbon saw on the other side of the glass issued a wave of ice cold fear that washed over her body and caught her breath in her throat. Inside the room, another gigantic red grin loomed on the far wall, just over the head of a battered Jane. The crimson face grinned down at him, mocking him, laughing.

Two heavy chains snaked out from opposite walls and had lashed themselves tightly around Jane's wrists. He was on his knees; his upper body was pitched forward as far as the chains would allow, his head was drooped, his restrained arms stretched awkwardly behind him. He remained there- unmoving and unconscious.

"Jane!" Lisbon shouted, pounding on the glass separating the team from their hostage coworker. "Get that door open!" She gestured frantically towards the door leading to the adjacent room where Jane was being held.

But just then, the door to the observation room slammed shut and sealed them inside, cutting them off from the rest of the building, and plunging them in near darkness save for the pale light emanating from the interrogation room.

"Jane!" Lisbon screamed. "Wake up! We're going to get you out of there!" Cho and Rigsby had begun furiously kicking and throwing themselves at either door, but neither would budge. Jane stirred slightly at the sound of his name as it cut through the glass and his unconsciousness.

As he lifted his head, Lisbon could see more than a few cuts across his face, and a line of blood that ran down his chin from the corner of his mouth- evidence that he had been struck several times. Under his ruffled and disheveled vest, his white button-up shirt was stained red with blood.

There was a door next to the face on the wall which led to another hallway. On a normal day, they brought the suspects in through this door and then used the one they just entered through to watch the questioning. And this time, leaning against the door not ten feet away from Jane, was the one suspect they wanted in this room more than any other. Under different circumstances, Lisbon would have been elated. But this hooded enigma that stood silently in the corner was not fated for captivity.

In the observation room, the air was still. Time itself had frozen, and it was as if the closed doors held them suspended in its grip. No one moved, no one spoke, no one breathed…

Jane was staring, glassy-eyed, into the mirror. He didn't see the figure behind him. Red John took two long, sweeping strides towards Jane. He seemed to glide.

"No!" Lisbon screamed. "Stop!" Miraculously, he did.

A memory flashed through her mind.

_Yeah, well, he takes him a second time I don't think he's coming back. _

Her mind raced. Was this it? After everything they had gone through- her, Jane, the team- and they couldn't even protect one of their own. Was this the way it ended?

Red John tilted his head and gazed through the glass coolly. Lisbon could see his eyes even through the dark shadow of the hooded robe and mask he was wearing. They were piercing- a deep, dark abyss that rivaled even his soul. It was as if he could see her -see right into her.

_Snap_. A silver glint of metal flashed in the killer's right hand.

"Oh my god," Van Pelt choked out the words, her hand covering her mouth.

"He's going to kill him. Get in there!" Lisbon shouted, finally regaining her voice and control of her body. She raced over to the door that was the only barrier between her and Jane. She feverishly heaved on the handle and pushed against the door.

"Boss. Boss!" Cho reached out for her and pulled her away. "You're not getting in there. These doors are completely sealed."

"We're going to have to wait for someone on the outside to get them open," Rigsby added, whipping out his phone and fumbling with the dial-pad. He lifted it to his ear and his face fell. "That's weird."

"What's weird?" Cho asked.

"My phone- it's not working."

"We have to get in there!" Lisbon urged, pushing her way back up to the glass to powerlessly watch the scene unfold.

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Poor Jane. Wanna see what happens next? Review!


	3. Chapter 3

Thanks for reviewing if you did so for my previous 2 chapters. Keep them coming! Hope you like my latest chapter. I really played up the theatrical side of Red John, because it just seemed to fit. Sorry my chapters are a bit short. I seem to have that problem lol. Remember, reviews are very much appreciated!

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**Ch. 3**

"Hello Patrick." Red John's silky tenor voice alerted Jane to the presence behind him. He jerked in his chains and groggily turned to look. He saw first the tailored shoes and his gaze traveled upward, taking in the long black robe that trailed along the floor, a silver blade clutched by a black gloved hand, and finally a face obscured by a hideous mask.

Jane let out a kind of choked, yelping sound as realization dawned on him and he abruptly turned his head away as far as he could.

"Do you know who I am?" Red John stepped closer.

Jane pressed his teeth and lips together, his cheeks inflating with every ragged breath, and his chest heaved and his hands shook; every fiber of his body was screaming, crying out for him to run, to get as far away as he could from the man that had terrorized him for so many years- he had to run, run, run!

Like lightning Red John was upon Jane and struck him across the face with his unarmed hand. Jane was knocked to the side, his arm almost yanked from its socket by the chains holding him upright.

"What do you want?" Jane slurred. His head was pounding in his skull.

"What do I want?" Red John chuckled manically. "Oh you know what I want, Patrick. The same thing I've wanted ever since you opened your big, arrogant mouth on television all those years ago."

"Stop," Jane begged. "Please, just leave me alone-"

"Oh, but Patrick, where would be the fun in that?" Red John backed away from Jane and outstretched his arms, gesturing to the walls. "Do you like what I've done with the place? It's homier, don't you think?" He gazed up admiringly at his artwork.

Jane spit blood out of his mouth. "Why are you doing this?"

"Ahh, well let's just say that I realized the error of my ways, Patrick. You see," he continued, stooping to Jane's level, balancing on the balls of his toes, "I've been too easy on you. I missed a valuable opportunity when I last had you at my mercy. And looking back, I feel something like regret. Better late than never, right Patrick?" His knife flashed through the air and sliced open Jane's shoulder. Jane let out an agonizing cry of pain. More blood stained his sullied shirt.

"Oh!" Red John exclaimed, jumping to his feet excitedly. "Did I mention you have an audience?"

* * *

Lisbon could hear their conversation from the other room. When Red John attacked Jane with the knife, his scream tore at her heart. She was so close, and yet completely helpless, forced to watch from behind an impenetrable wall of glass.

Then Red John swung around and gestured at the team, and her terrified heart skipped a beat.

"Did I mention you have an audience?" she heard him say theatrically. He was enjoying this. "Say hello to Agents Lisbon, Cho, Rigsby, and Van Pelt." When he said her name, she blinked, startled.

"Lisbon?" Jane whispered hopefully, squinting into the glass.

"I'm here Jane!" she called, near hysterics. "I'm right here! It's going to be ok!" She shakily reached out to touch the glass, trying to give Jane some sort of comfort, but knew it was futile.

"Lisbon!" he replied, stronger this time.

"I must admit, this is rather touching," Red John chuckled, placing a hand on his heart. "You see, Patrick, I get to kill two birds with one stone here. Your teammates care very dearly for you. Your pain is their pain. I'm counting on that."

Jane pulled at the chains restraining him, snarling in frustration as they held firm and grimacing as he agitated fresh wounds. "You don't know what you're doing. It was stupid for you to come here."

"You underestimate me, Patrick. I'm hurt. I certainly know what I am doing, and it was not 'stupid,' risky indeed, but far from 'stupid.'"

"Just get it over with then," Jane spat. "Kill me. You can't hurt me anymore."

"Kill you? I hardly want to kill you. On the contrary, I like our little game. I wouldn't trade it for the world."

"Game? You call this a game?"

"Oh yes, Patrick, it is a game." He smiled behind the mask. "You should know. You started it. You started it the day you insulted me in front of the nation. What a crushing blow that was! But in games, there are always sacrifices, always casualties. Your wife and daughter can attest to that." His tone darkened. "And Patrick, you should know, I never lose."

"You bastard," Jane growled through clenched teeth.

"Hmm, perhaps. I don't remember my parents," he said thoughtfully. He shook his head, snapping out of it. "Look at me Patrick; you have me rambling about all sorts of things. You're very good. Unfortunately for you, you are merely delaying the inevitable."

"You can't hurt me," Jane repeated.

"Oh but I can, I can." Red John warned, waving the knife threateningly in the air. "Want me to prove it?"

He abruptly ran up to the glass and threw his arms in the air. "Ladies and gentlemen, boys and girls! I give you…" he paused dramatically. "-the Greatest Show on Earth!" He took a great, low bow and swiveled menacingly towards Jane, his jagged blade outstretched.


	4. Chapter 4

So I just watched the preview for the latest Mentalist episode (Bloodhounds) on youtube since I hadn't seen it yet, and I noticed that it's about rhyming, and in the commercial it says that Jane is a poet and he doesn't even know it. Just felt like sharing since I wrote that in my first chapter BEFORE I saw the preview. I promise! Anyway, thanks for the additional reviews and subscriptions! They really keep me going. This is my last chapter, unless I get enough people asking for a continuation, in which case I can try to whip something up. Otherwise, thanks for reading and reviewing!

One quick question for you to answer once you finish reading. Is this "mature"? Cause if you dont think its too bad, I would love to reclassify it as teen. I was kinda on the fence about which rating to give it. Let me know!

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**Ch. 4**

Jane's screams echoed throughout the room, and Lisbon found herself wishing that the glass was just a little bit thicker.

Van Pelt was wrapped in Rigsby's arms, her face buried in his chest. Even Cho had placed a comforting hand on Lisbon's arm. He had tried to steer her away from the mirror, but she refused to lose any distance between herself and the tormented Jane. The scene was horrifying. Every blow that Red John dealt caused more flecks of blood to paint the walls and floor. Jane was bent over, no longer able to hold his body upright. Only the chains kept him from falling down completely to the floor.

A punch to the face threw him backwards. A kick in the side left him gasping. A slash to the arm sent his blood flying.

Over Jane's pained cries, Lisbon could hear Red John shouting at him, mocking him.

"Scream for them, Patrick. It's ok. Don't be shy!"

"Stop…please," Jane muttered weakly, his words slurring together.

"You're the great Patrick Jane! Psychic/ mentalist extraordinaire! Almighty CBI consultant! Surely you enjoy the spotlight!" he cut Jane again, across the cheek. "And you of all people should know to never bore your audience!"

Red John grabbed a fistful of Jane's hair and yanked it painfully, leaning down and whispering in Jane's ear: "Are you ready for the grand finale?"

With a glance at the glass, Red John grinned and raised the knife high in the air behind the battered and unaware Jane.

"No!" Lisbon screamed, tears running down her face.

But it was too late. Red John brought the knife down and stabbed Jane brutally in the back. Jane let out a long tortured scream and fell forward, suspended inches from the ground. He hung there, dazed and nearly unconscious.

"Jane! JANE!" Lisbon shrieked, pressing her hands to the glass and pounding on it repeatedly. He can't die, she told herself continually. He couldn't. He just couldn't. Not her Jane.

Red John stared contentedly at Jane for a while before straightening himself and approaching the glass wall. With inches to spare between his face and the mirror, he looked at it as if he could see right through it and into the eyes of the distraught team.

"He will live," he assured the team coolly. With those words, Lisbon's heart lurched and lifted. There was hope! With the assurance that Jane wasn't dead, her emotions shifted from sorrow and anguish to hatred and anger.

"You won't get away with this! You won't make it out of here alive, even if I have to hunt you down and kill you myself!" her voice wavered uncontrollably as she couldn't control her flood of emotions.

Red John began to laugh. It started out as a slight chuckle, but gained intensity and blossomed into hysterical laughter. "Agent Lisbon," he interjected between voracious bursts. "If you only knew!"

He backed up and seized Jane by the arm, causing him to yelp and grimace in pain. But the expected torture didn't come. Instead, Red John unlocked the chain holding Jane's right arm aloft. Freed from the bondage, Jane collapsed to the floor, moaning, the knife still biting into the flesh of his back.

Red John then walked over to Jane's other arm and released that one as well. His left arm flopped weakly to the ground.

"You see, Agent Lisbon," he said as he leaned over the feeble victim of his torture. "Your affection for Mr. Jane is your greatest weakness. It is because of this affection that you and your subordinates will allow me to walk out of this building completely unharmed."

With that absurd statement, he took hold of Jane by the waist and roughly lifted him to his feet. Jane expelled another tormented wail but was helplessly held upright by a shockingly strong force.

Lisbon understood. Red John was going to use Jane as a human shield. And with a sinking realization, she relented that he was right. There was nothing she could do. There was no possible way that she would risk Jane's life to bring down Red John.

With a click, the door from the observation room to the hallway unlocked. Almost instantly, a hoard of anxious CBI employees poured inside. They froze as their eyes caught sight of the bloody interrogation room, the masked villain, and their wounded coworker.

Red John, as if he knew that his audience had just increased, stated plainly, "If you want your precious consultant back alive, you will have everyone evacuate the path to the front entrance."

Slightly regaining her strength and conviction, Lisbon spent the next ten minutes doing exactly that. She gathered everyone in the building in the bullpen and forbid anyone from going anywhere near the interrogation room or the main entrance to the CBI headquarters. She walked back to the observation room, holding her breath as she entered to a familiar horrifying sight.

"It's done," her voice wavered.

"It's been a pleasure," and with that, Red John drug his captive through the vacant door to the next hallway and didn't stop until he passed through the double doors of the building.

Jane knew that he was being almost carried out of his prison. Other than that, he was too delusional to take in what was happening. Was Red John going to kill him? Was he letting him go? Was he dead already? His body was on fire, every inch of it. Most prominent was an agonizing, splitting pain that coursed through his back.

Suddenly, he was thrown to the floor, his head striking the ground painfully. He groaned and coughed, blood glittering the floor beneath him. He sensed a presence hovering just above him.

Red John lowered his own head to the ground and whispered a message only for Jane's ears, stood gracefully, and walked out of the CBI without a care in the world or a drop of blood on his shoe.

Back in the bullpen, Teresa Lisbon sat on Jane's sofa and watched as the first bloody smiley face dried and hardened. It might as well have been her heart, for if Jane didn't make it out of this nightmare alive, nothing was going to stand in her way for revenge. But luckily, as Jane's voice reached her ears and she raced towards it with all the speed she could muster, her heart was only for him.

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The End

Please review!


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